Protector of the Goal
by hottie12oclock
Summary: Daine is in the present time. She attends a summer soccer camp, where she meets a coach and professor by the name of Numair Salmalin.
1. Chapter 1

**Dearest Readers,**

**This is my second story. The first acquired wonderful reviews and I would simply love to hear your thoughts on this document. Those who have read _Daine Fights_, would you care to compare the two? Please keep in mind as you read that I have changed many of the details pertaining to the novels by Tamora Pierce. And please, do enjoy yourselves.**

**Sincerely,**

**Hottie12oclock**

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**DISCLAIMER:** The original characters belong to the ingenious Tamora Pierce.

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**PROTECTOR OF THE GOAL: CHAPTER ONE**

_Name:_ Veralidaine Sarrasri. "No, scratch that." The girl erased the first word, replacing it. "Daine Sarrasri. Much better. Occupation? Student and part-time waitress. Home phone? 404…" Daine finished the application, answering the various questions. After handing the paper to the bored-looking lady at the desk, she exited the stuffy building, accidentally slamming the door that read 'sport registration'. As she slid into her yellow corvette she was thrilled over the weeks to come. The registration was for University of Georgia's summer soccer program. Soccer was what she loved most, aside from mammalian anatomy that was. She shifted into reverse, backing out of her parking space, and as soon as she was in first gear she was gone. She allowed the soccer dreams to occupy her mind as she drove off campus and headed for the interstate.

Daine was so preoccupied that she nearly missed her exit. She had to cut quickly into the left lane, angering a man in a suburban. When she finally pulled up to the gate guarding entrance to the neighborhood, she punched the code to satisfy the computer and entered Silver Birch Estates. The lots were roughly two acres each, and mounted upon them were houses enough to impress Daine each time she passed them.

She had lost her mother when she was twelve. Having a single mother for a time, all Daine had ever known was a small apartment. But when a tragic fire consumed her sole guardian, Daine was sent into foster care. There she stayed until the joyous day when Jonathan and Thayet Conté adopted her. She still kept her mother's maiden name, but everything else changed. She now resided in a five bedroom, 5600 square foot manor. Daine owned the nicest clothes and not to mention a nice car, all complements of her adopted parents. Private stables three miles away housed their two horses, Cloud and Darkmoon. Diane had everything she could ever ask for. What she didn't have, however, was what she couldn't ask for: the adorable soccer instructor/university professor, Coach/Prof. Salmalìn. True, Diane was only eighteen and he was twenty-six (A/N just pretend, ok?) but he was also the most handsome creature to walk the face of the earth.

Daine really did love soccer for the sport; Coach Salmalìn was just a plus. She had the pleasure of playing for him twice already and attended his little-known anatomy class. Select advanced placement students could take his course, and Daine happened to be one of those select few.

"Jon, Thayet, I'm home," she called, sliding her keys into her handbag. Walking into the kitchen, she found Thayet mincing vegetables with Alleika, their chef and housekeeper.

"Hey, honey. Jon's out back. Did you sign up?" Daine nodded and bit into and apple selected from the fruit bowl.

"Training starts Wednesday, and our first tournament is two Saturdays from this weekend. Are you coming?" Daine asked, always glad to have them in the stands.

"Of course," Thayet replied simply. "Dinner's at five, by the way," she added as Daine walked away. Daine nodded again and smiled. She trotted upstairs, two at a time, and turned left to enter her room. The blue walls greeted her as sunshine danced playfully through the many windows. She was completely itching to get at her soccer ball, but put her mind on a different track: violin.

Extracting the delicate instrument from the velvety interior of its case, she slid the shoulder rest into place. It gripped the back, which was a one-piece tiger pattern. Daine settled it on her shoulder. After tightening the bow she tried the A string. Ew, way flat. An adjustment with the pegs and a little with the fine tuners near the base, she tuned the rest of the strings according to the A. Although the violin was marvelous, it didn't matter. What matters is what you do with it. Daine played it _piano_, _forte_, _fortissimo_, whatever any music called for. She played that violin with her heart and soul, mind and body. All too soon, the dinner bell rang.

"Beethoven's fifth, a well-known selection," Jon observed at the dinner table. Apparently he had heard her playing. Jon and Thayet perched at the ends of the table, Daine and Alleika in between. Alleika, an old nanny may she be, but she was still like a part of the family. Alleika had worked for the Conte's even before Daine had arrived. "What do you say we brush up on your ball skills after dinner?" Jon probed.

Daine beamed. "I would enjoy that. Maybe you guys could join," Daine added, meaning Thayet and Alleika. Thayet shook her head and politely declined the offer, saying that soccer wasn't her specialty.

"Come on, Jon, take your best shot," Daine teased. Dinner was settled in their stomachs and she stood in the center of a portable, full-sized metal-frame goal. Yards away, Jon backed away from where the ball was placed, prepared to take a penalty shot. He sprinted, planted his left foot beside the ball, and booted the ball fiercely at Daine. In one lazy reach, Daine had snagged the sphere and tucked it into her stomach. Jon showed his approval and prepared for the next shot.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: The First Shot**

Wednesday had come and Numair was standing by the benches, ignoring the gaggle of girls congregated around him. They had all closely inquired about his hair, which was now cropped short, much shorter than the previous shoulder-length cut that had cocooned his head. He now sported a slightly-messy mop, he called it. Apparently the girls adored it, though. He awaited a certain someone: his star player, number one goalie, Daine. Then, he saw her. Or rather, her car. He watched as she stepped out, traveled to the trunk to remove her gear, and then take a moment to pin her beautiful, lush curls atop her head. _No, _he thought. _I cannot prey upon her like that. I'm her coach and she's my student! Get these thoughts out of your head, Numair._ He peeled his eyes off the approaching figure and switched his attention to his players.

"Coach Chamtong cannot make it, today or for the rest of the summer season. Unfortunately she has some business to attend to with her camp." Daine was now here to hear this. Onua Chamtong, one of Jon and Thayet's dear friends, ran a horse camp. She had no idea of what kind of 'business' Numair meant, but she was sure she'd find out. "For now, I am your only coach. There will be a replacement for Onua by the second week of training. I will be watching today during practice to influence my judgment on team captain. Stretch out and take a lap. Daine will then lead you in an Indian run." He looked at Daine, who snapped her eyes from his hair to his face. He tried very hard not to let his satisfaction show; it looked as if Daine liked his hair.

The girls immediately gathered in a circle and stretched. The stretches consisted of leg lunges, thigh pulls, toe-touches, etc. After their muscles were all very loose a lap around the field loosened them more. Nearing the starting point of the first lap, Daine pulled up to the front and everyone gradually lined up behind her. Like a beating of a drum, Daine fell into a pace. At her signal, Becca raced up from the back of the line. The returning players knew the tempo of the run well; the two new members found that they wished desperately for water.

At the end of the run the players were panting a bit, and two of them were flat out on their backs, greedily sucking air into their deprived lungs.

"Rachel, Emille, take a break," ordered Numair. "The rest of you, line it up for sprints." The team knew better than to groan. Any unappreciated sound heard by the coach's ever-mindful ears earned them an addition of five twenty-yard sprints.

Looking left, Daine counted off her teammates: Taylor, the left wing, had red hair. Becca was the brunette forward, Chelsea the blonde forward. Henna played right wing, Patricia (brunette) played center. Jasminne, who always had the prettiest braids, and dirty-blonde Lauren were Daine's defense. Sweeper was taken by the other red-head, Yaya. Sarah played goalie and defense, but rarely got a chance in goal. Alexandra played wherever she was needed. Sarah and Alex didn't often start, but were put in by the second half. Rachel and Emille, to be UGA freshmen in the fall, were occupying bench-space as they guzzled water.

The rest of the two hours was spent on only fundamentals. Even though Daine had run every night around Silver Birch, she felt her body complaining. She wasn't the only one; but it seemed Rachel and Emille took the hardest hit. They dragged themselves so slowly back to the parking lot that Daine had to feel sorry for them. Tomorrow, Numair had promised, they might touch a ball. By this, the team knew, he meant elbow-to-knees, jogging in place while tapping the top of the ball with your foot, kind of 'touching'.

Numair surprised Daine the next afternoon. At his feet a dozen balls were confined in nets and a stack of orange cones lay nearby. Her face brightened, knowing that with soccer balls just there, Numair wouldn't be able to hold the girls off for long. "Take a lap," was Numair's only greeting. They did so, even as others arrived. "Taylor, Patricia, Chelsea, you owe me an extra lap. It may only be the second practice, but I will not accept tardiness." Numair's face was set. Daine thanked the stars that she had arrived on time, even if she rushed and sped, just a _little._ The team stood and waited for the three late members to finish a second lap after they had finished their first.

"All right, pair up. Each pair takes one ball only. You are going to lie in sit-up position. As you are half way up, toss the ball to your partner. Your partner will then sit up, as you drop, and toss the ball to you. Do twenty. Got it?" Numair asked. The girls murmured their recognition. It sounded a great deal easier than it actually was. Daine's stomach burned as she completed her seventeenth sit-up, thrusting the UGA-stamped ball to Becca. Three more, she told herself. Only three. Finally, with a sigh of relief, Daine rested her screaming abs. She didn't get to rest for long; Numair saw that everyone was finished and got onto the next torture: sprints.

"Ten thirty-yard sprints, eight forty-yard sprints, and five fifty-yard sprints. Also, I want another lap." He positioned four cones as the girls lined up. "Full speed," he added. Sweat glistened on everyone's foreheads, catching the intense Georgian rays. Numair stood at the far end. Raising his arm, he dropped it. Daine pushed fiercely against the green turf with her right leg. She crossed the thirty-yard boundary and lined up again for another go.

"Take a break," Numair told the fatigued girls. Gratefully they absorbed as much water as possible, knowing that Numair's breaks were far and few. The brutal training won them games, however. No matter how crummy they could feel now, a winning game always more than reimbursed that. Daine kept this in mind every time she felt compelled to gripe. Besides, complaints were not flattering.

The next day was very much like the last, whipping their athletic bodies into unbelievably fit forms. Finally, on the fourth day, they took out the soccer balls for real business. The girls cheered and ran to get either a school ball or their own. Daine brought her own from its confines within her bag.

"Dribble about these cones and then get to the back of the line. I know it's elementary, but you'd be surprised with the improvement. I will stop you when I feel you have performed to the best of your ability." Chelsea led the queue before the orange funnels. Daine, fourth in line, dribbled to the left, right, left, until she completed the course. She managed to make it through three times before Numair stopped them. All in all, they hadn't done terribly. A few lost control, as expected, but not ridiculously. Daine even chased her ball.

Numair informed them that they were going to run for the rest of practice. Daine could not take it anymore and spoke up. Yet before she could, Jasmine interrupted her. 

"Coach! Come on, let's take some shots. I, for one, need to get some boot in. We haven't done anything but fundamentals!" Jasmine expressed _fundamentals_ with a disapproving tone. There was an agreeing murmur that made itself out of each of their mouths. For a moment Daine was afraid that Numair was going to refuse and give them more sprints, leaving her appalled when he didn't.

After consideration, Numair opened his mouth. "Fine," he sighed. "Daine, get your gloves. Everyone else line up at the box." Many of them looked surprised, like Daine, but then they just followed orders before he changed his mind. Fishing her goalie gloves out of a compartment in her bag, Daine strapped them on and took her place in the goal. Chelsea, Becca, and Henna were the first three to go. Daine relaxed her knees and had her hands up. Chelsea placed her ball in the favorable spot and took two steps back. She stepped and kicked, sending the ball flying towards the right corner. Daine's reaction was natural to her; she lunged and dove for the ball, grasping it between her palms. Chelsea looked a bit disappointed that her shot hadn't made it, but complemented Daine's save nevertheless. Smiling and in the groove, Daine returned the forward's ball and settled herself back in place. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Numair watching and couldn't help beaming when she saved the next ball. Patricia's shot, however, slipped past her and fixed in the net.

When it was time to retire, Daine had only let in four goals. She was happy enough, but four goals were not acceptable to her when it came to the game. Also, Daine had high hopes for getting team captain this summer. She vowed to work extra hard. Sure, she had let in a few goals, but, for the first shot, it wasn't bad.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Tournament Grounds**

Daine woke up the Saturday of their first tournament with a spastic buzzing in her veins. As her cardiovascular system pumped the sensation all the way down to her toes, she jumped out of bed and scooted downstairs to grab a banana. Her metabolism needed the nutrients for the day to come. She turned down an offer of a scrambled egg from Alleika and instead occupied her time brushing her teeth. Pulling her hair into a knot at the crown of her head, Daine rushed into her room and pulled a shirt over her shoulders. She slipped the silky black shorts onto her hips. Lastly, Daine yanked the unique red-and-black, long-sleeved jersey over her grubby undershirt. She strapped on her shin guards and then bedecked them with the black socks. The socks were Daine's personal favorite; they were, of course, black, but a red stripe ran up the sides and a white Adidas symbol adorned the side. She thought they were snazzy, as far as soccer socks went.

As she approached the exit for the tournament grounds, Daine's stomach pulled acrobatic stunts. What if she screwed up? What if the fate of the game depended on one shot, and she missed it? Finally she shook these thoughts out of her mind. She couldn't dwell on the unpredictable. Her hands placed at ten o' clock and two o'clock on the steering wheel turned into the parking lot of UGA's preened fields. Atleast their team had the advantage of home goals.

Daine grabbed her bag and made a determined beeline for Numair. A few girls of the team were there, stretching out and warming up. So was Varice Kingsford, Onua's replacement. It was well known that Varice was relentlessly trailing after Numair. Daine forced herself to be civil to the new assistant coach, but secretly wished she was on the receiving end of some of the looks Numair gave Varice. She didn't blame him; she was an impossibly beautiful, shapely blonde. She knew that anyone like that would be hard for Numair to resist. Peeling her eyes from the scene before her (Numair was intently viewing Varice stretch her legs) she checked her watch. Half past ten. Their first game was at eleven thirty. The Lady Dogs had, for sure, one game and perhaps a second or third if they qualified for the tournament championship. She figured that the greatest challenge would be the Lady Yellow Jackets. She had to admit; the Jackets were good. The rest of the teams were mediocre.

Daine sat down and stretched her hamstrings by touching her toes. She always started with her legs and worked up, aiming to loosen every possible muscle and joint in her anatomy. Finished with the bottom half of her body, she worked on her sides and stomach. She took special care with her shoulders. As she was goalie, her shoulders and arms were prime regions. She completed her stretches by rolling her neck.

She strapped the colorful elastic armband that identified her as captain around her bicep. Thinking back on the moment when she had been given captain's privileges, she smiled.

_"Now, the moment you all have been waiting for." Numair stood with a smug look on his face. Daine could tell he loved knowing something they didn't know, and were all particularly anxious for him to reveal. "Team captain will be – drum roll, please (the girls beat their shin guards) – Chelsea Thorati. Report to me after practice." Daine couldn't help feeling a little disappointed. She had made sure that she pushed herself extra hard, stopping only when she was sure her lungs would disintegrate into dust. She went to clap Chelsea on the back all the same. Bad sportsmanship wouldn't prove anything. Just then, Chelsea spoke up and Daine noticed that the team had their eyes on her. _

_"Coach- erm- I can't take this." Numair seemed surprised, but waited for her to explain herself. Chelsea looked around at her fellow teammates. At the very last the girl's eyes locked with Daine's. "I feel that no one has showed more spirit and cooperation than Daine. She deserves it, not me. Daine was the only one who picked anyone up after a particularly rotten practice. She's also supported our freshmen members, and I can't say I did that much. You remember when it was pouring and they didn't have rides. Did anyone else offer them a lift?" There was a murmur of agreement from the team. Somehow, Daine had a suspicion that it was a conspiracy. _

_The flattered Daine found her voice. "No, really, I couldn't take that. Everyone had done as much as I have. There's–" _

_Becca cut her off. "Oh, just take it. You know you want it, and you know you've earned it." Chelsea took the liberty of attaching the band to Daine's arm. She was still too stunned to speak. Why would they do this? _

_"If you truly wish to resign, Chelsea, I think Daine can handle the load; but only if consent is given by every member of this team. And if Daine is willing to accept." This was Numair. Daine shook her head and went to peel it off, but three hands at once stayed her motion. _

_"Take it, please?" One asked._

_"We didn't plan the whole thing to have you refuse," another added, away from the ears of their coach. Finally Daine gave a little smile and hugged Chelsea. It meant a lot to captain as a sophomore. Chelsea hugged her back and then Numair broke up the party. _

_"All right, back to work. Let's move, people!"_

To explain the Lady Bulldogs' game in great detail would result in excessive useless soccer dialogue, so I will highlight the major points. The coin was flipped, Daine calling heads on the toss and the rival captain taking tales. It was tails, giving choice of goal to the Wildcats. Of course, they chose the goal to be least affected by the sun the first half. That meant that by the time second half rolled around and they switched goals, the Wildcats would again possess the favorable side. Diane shook hands with the girl. Hey, she would have chosen the same way. The first quarter started without much excitement, Bulldogs reaping one goal and Wildcats none by second quarter. Half time's score was still 1-0. In the third quarter, however, Wildcats had an assist and Daine easily snagged it. Bulldogs stole another two goals fourth quarter, the final score 3- zip. Daine had to admit, it felt good to win.

Wildcats were eliminated from the tournament. This left the Bulldogs, Yellow Jackets (4-0 win), the Tigers, and the Eagles to show their stuff. Next to play were the Bulldogs and Tigers on field four, the Yellow Jackets and Eagles on field three. Again, I will narrate the significant happenings. Bulldogs easily thieved three goals first half, but the Tigers had to work for the one that they scored. Daine cursed herself for letting it in, but she avenged the goal by making two other nice, clean saves. Second half the Bulldogs took another goal from the Tigers and ended the game 4-1. Numair was ecstatic; they were going to the final game. Daine knew that they would be opposing the Yellow Jackets even before the results reached her ears. They had half and hour to rest and save up for the big game.

Lying on the grass at the feet of Jon and Thayet (they had come to watch her games) was very relaxing. Daine guessed that right now, being so tired, that anyplace would be relaxing. Her team lounged nearby. But the tranquility was interrupted when Numair began bellowing orders.

"All right, team! Let's warm up. Fifteen minutes to game time." They lined up in a zig-zag line on the sidelines. Numair stood at one end and passed the ball to the person diagonal to him. Surprisingly, Varice actually decided that she was going to join. She positioned herself so that Daine would pass to her. She didn't think it wise of the older woman, but she wasn't about to tell her that. Daine kept her eyes off Varice (who was now tying her shirt up in the front to make her belly show, trying desperately to get Numair's attention) and instead kept her eyes on the ball. When it came to her –Varice didn't notice that Daine had the ball - and oops! The ball went sailing straight to Varice's thigh. Stunned, Varice lost her balance and twisted. She went down. Daine worked so hard to control her laughter that she started to have fits. Her head jerked and Varice knew exactly what ailed Daine. She narrowed her eyes. Suddenly, an ankle that previously wasn't suffering pained Varice terribly. She groaned and whined while clutching at it, rocking a little and tearing up for optimum effect. Numair was on his way, surprise finding itself into his eyes. Daine strangely noted that there wasn't any apparent concern.

Still, the Varice woman had taken something mortifying and turned it into a pity fest. Daine huffed. Once again, all the _good_ attention was on the beautiful blonde. Daine looked up at her teammates and saw that they, too, shook with unexpressed laughter. She had to smile. Daine speculated that she wasn't the only one tiring from Varice's endless attempts for attention. Daine shifted her gaze back to the excitement.

She heard Varice whine, "Oh, it _hurts_, Numair! I don't think I can walk." Numair was examining her supposed injury.

"I don't feel or see any bruising or swelling," he told her after a few minutes. "Why don't you try to stand?" He straightened from where he was crouched. She reached an arm up and he took it, pulling her to her feet. Immediately Varice lifted her leg and began babbling about the pain. So, Numair performed the gentlemanly task of helping his patient to the sidelines. "Bring it in, girls," he told the team and set Varice on the bench. While his back was turned, Daine received a few discreet high-fives from many of the girls. It didn't matter that Varice turned herself into the poor, helpless victim. Daine was quite happy with herself when she got back to her resting spot. She did catch Jon's somewhat disapproving look, but his eyes convicted his facial features of a lie: they twinkled with amusement.

Daine didn't watch Numair roughly wrap an ace bandage around Varice's "damaged" ankle. She didn't need to see his careless, jerky movements to prove that he didn't truly care for Varice; she had already seen it in his face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Dogs and Jackets**

"Captains," the referee requested. Daine trotted up to meet at the field's center. Catching sight of the other captain, she started.

"Yolane? Yolane _Dunlath?_" The girl turned around to face Daine.

"Daine _Sarra_sri," she said, wrinkling her nose at the name. "I didn't know you acquired such talents. And you? A team captain!" Yolane's laugh was forced and cruel. "Was your team really that desperate?"

"Captains, shake hands," the ref ordered. He hadn't heard their exchange of words. Daine stuck out her hand and Yolane drew back, peering at the hand as if it was poisonous. "Call it on the toss," the ref said again, completely missing the lack of hand-shaking. He looked bored and tired, noted Daine.

"Heads," called Yolane, beating out Daine. The coin dropped with the head in the grass. Daine had won the toss and therefore took her choice of goal. She chose the one to the right, so she could get the left last. The sun would be lower and behind her second half, making it more difficult for oncoming players to see. She ran back to the sidelines to tell the team the news and hustled out with them to take positions. She stood between the two posts and a little up.

The starting whistle was blown and Becca took possession. She ran, dodging the Yellow Jackets' forwards. Yolane looked particularly angry that they had gotten past her. Becca qickly passed to Chelsea. She ran with it, but the YJ's left wing stole it and passed to their forward.

The game proceeded in such a manner for quite a time. There had been a few assists but no goals. Daine didn't know how their last game could have been their best played yet; the offense was working nonstop to find a hole and break away; the defense was like a solid wall that none could pass. Daine was able to view the field like a bystander, for the opposing team very rarely neared her territory. However, her eyes never left the ball. That was how she played; she was only vaguely aware of the players themselves, and instead followed the ball closely with her eyes. When it came down to protecting her goal, the ball seemed to beckon Daine in the sense of her muscles. She would, nine times out of ten, stray the ball from entering the net.

They struggled into fourth quarter; with roughly six minutes to go, one of the teams had to score to break the tie. If not, they would go into overtime, every competitor's trepidation. Daine was watching Becca travel up the field, one of the few times that she watched the player herself. The forward had amazing speed. She also had agility, which came into play as the right wing barred her path. Almost too quick to see, Becca found an opening and dashed off, leaving even the defenders perplexed. Then, Becca scored.

An earsplitting roar erupted from the Lady Bulldogs' sidelines. Parents, coaches, and fans were on their feet, cheering Becca on as the girl, fueled by excitement, ran down the field with her arms up. Her team didn't have time to congratulate the bubbling hero; they still had a game to play. Daine glanced quickly at Yolane and their eyes locked. A fire that could consume Daine burned within their depths. She wasn't sure what Yolane saw in her eyes, but it wasn't fear. Daine wasn't frightened of the duel commanded by that fire.

When the whistle blew, the ball left one girl's foot and fell into Yolane's possession. Yolane moved as if she were darting left but instead sped to the right. She evaded the forwards and the wings. Daine took a ready position, preparing for anything. Yolane fought the defenders with many tricky footsteps and angered speed. This was it; it was just her, Yolane, and the ball.

The outside sound of Yellow Jacket fans dimmed until Daine only heard her own breaths and the furious drumming of her heart. It pounded in her chest. Mysteriously, the oncoming girl seemed to move in slow motion. If Yolane made the goal, they would go into overtime. If she didn't, the Bulldogs had the game for sure. Yolane's yellow jersey was wrapped around her, as a result of the wind and/or her speed. Daine's two defenders fought to reach the raging Jacket. Daine focused on the spherical object dribbled between two cleated feet. This small object could turn the tables of the game, either in red or yellow favor. Just before the white border of the goalie's box, the feet changed. The left planted in the grass while the right swung from view. A moment and the left's companion returned, making contact with the sphere. The sphere flew into motion. Daine dove –

- And clutched the ball in her fingertips. She hit the ground and felt a twinge of pain in her shoulder. The ball was now tucked securely into Daine's stomach, where it did not fall out. Quick as she had fallen, Daine was on her feet again and welcoming the new sound, the sound of _her_ side cheering. It was perhaps the hardest save she had ever made, and the best. Yolane was standing at the fringe of forbidden territory, goalie territory, looking dumbstruck.

The pain in Daine's shoulder now returned to her. She needed to punt, but grasped her shoulder momentarily. Preoccupied, she didn't see the livid Yolane coming at her. Yolane stalked up behind the goalie and with all her might hit the side of her target's face, sending the victimized head smashing into the nearby goal post. With a resonating _clang_ bone met steel. Daine, delirious with pain and shock, felt her body crumpling to the ground. Her nose began to run, and something sharp scraped across her cheek. People were yelling, and Daine didn't know why. What happened to her? Where was all this pain coming from? Nearby there was a heavy thud, more yelling and some screaming. Fighting to sit up, the world spun. She couldn't find the strength to try again. She was tired and wanted to close her eyes…

"Daine! Daine, look at me!" I must obey, she thought. She peeled back her eyelids with extreme difficulty. Blending and swirling colors whirled into vision. Then, very slowly, a face distinguished itself from the whirlpool. A wailing siren came to her ears, and then muted into the roar that deafened Daine. Numair's terrified eyes were the last things she saw.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: Coming To**

Her head throbbed. There was a small pain in her shoulder and she felt incredibly drowsy. Opening her eyes, Daine was blinded by bright lights and pale blue walls. Quickly she shut them again. The air smelled faintly of microwave dinners, but still had a sterile and crisp scent; funny, she thought, it smells just like a hospital in here – Daine opened her eyes again. This time the light wasn't overwhelmingly intense. The first thing she noticed was an assortment of balloons and flowers on a nearby table. _Get Well Soon!_ Read one balloon. Daine felt confused: why would she need to get well soon? She was perfectly fine, and why were all these things were in her bedroom? Daine gasped. It didn't seem probable that _she _was in the hospital, lying in a hard bed with starchy sheets. Why was she here? Was it even her that was here? Was it only a dream?

Holding up her arms, she observed them. One white and one yellow strip of paper decorated her left wrist. Peering at it, she read the following:

Veralidaine Sarrasri

DOB: 05/09/88

115 lbs.

5'5"

ER, sports accident. Admitted 06/03/06, 07:13 pm.

Blood Type: O Neg.

Well, it was indeed her wrist. Sports accident? What had happened? Daine felt that she had forgotten something, but didn't know what. Sitting up, she found that it was daylight out. A small ray of sunshine streaked through a tiny gap in the curtains. Daine looked around until she found a door in the wall to her right. She knew she shouldn't, but curiosity got the better of her and she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Despite the throbbing in her head, she felt incredibly well. Her exposed toes contacted the cold floor. She took small steps toward the door; before she could open it, though, something occurred to her: did her gown have a back? Shivering at the thought of stumbling through the hospital corridors showing a full moon, she cautiously felt for material. Releasing a breath when her fingers met cloth Daine tried the knob. It was locked. Dang, Daine thought. Stupid door.

As there was nothing else she could do, Daine returned to her bed. She racked her brains to see if she could remember anything; she figured the last place she remembered was the soccer fields. She remembered starting the tournament game, but that was the extent of her memory. She was still attempting to discover the cause of her condition when a turning doorknob interrupted her thoughts.

She turned her head to see the visitor. A plump nurse in a blue scrub (was nothing in this hospital not blue, Daine wondered) examining a notebook. The lady looked up, seeing that Daine was conscious, and closed the notebook. Then the lady turned and walked out again, returning moments later with a doctor.

"Hello," a tall man also in a blue scrub, but wearing a white overcoat, greeted. _Dr. Neal _was embroidered on the breast pocket. "May I get you to follow this light with your eyes, please?" He clicked on a flashlight and moved it from side to side. "Good. Now, can you tell me your name, age, and what you were doing before coming here?"

Daine answered, stating her full name and that she was eighteen, but couldn't sufficiently state what happened at the fields. "I know that we were playing the championship game, and that – well, I don't know. I think we were winning." Dr. Neal nodded and made a note in the book that had been placed at the foot of Daine's bed.

Once finished writing, he said, "Your memory should gradually return. You had quite the bump on the head, and needed nine stitches in your right cheek. If you have a headache, it is result of the anesthesia administered to you last night. Would you like me to send in your visitor?" When Daine looked puzzled, he explained. "I believe your coach is here. At least, that is what he claims." Dr. Neal smiled. "He thought you would be more comfortable hearing your story from him rather than me." Daine nodded and Dr. Neal left.

Numair walked in as Daine sat up. He closed the door softly behind him and crossed the room in two large strides. Standing by her bed, he grabbed her hands.

"Daine, I was so worried! We thought for sure you would have a concussion or internal bleeding or, or –" he sighed and smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Daine replied. She felt so, but had a suspicion that she could be bleeding to death and his touch would make it all right. She caught his eyes, losing herself in their brown depths. Numair stared back at her and there was a moment where neither of them could breathe. Then, their visual connection was broken when Numair put his lips to hers. Startled, but enjoying the feeling, Daine accepted it. His lips were warm and seemed to meet perfectly with hers, as if they had been carved of the same stone. The sensation was pure oblivion; Daine's stomach seemed to flutter with overflowing joy. Suddenly, Numair pulled away.

His eyes were wide with alarm. "Daine, I'm sorry, I didn't mean - " This time Daine _pulled_ his lips to hers, the lack of his kiss unbearable. Numair received the message.

**Chapter Six: Reuniting, Explanations, and Charges**

Daine was glad to finally be rid of the monochrome building the next day. In three weeks she was to return in order for them to remove her stitches. There was a large "contusion" (by Dr. Neal's words) on the left side of her head, but miraculously, no severe cranial damage. Jon and Thayet were filing battery and assault charges against Yolane Dunlath, Daine's attacker. They weren't filing a lawsuit but were demanding Yolane be, at the least, put on probation and community service. Daine wasn't worried about court. She really didn't care what happened to Yolane, either. As far as she could tell, not only had they won the soccer game, but Daine had turned out to be the better person, the sun was shining, and she wasn't wearing a bright orange jail suit.

"Are you positive you want to see it?" Jon asked Daine later when they were at home. Daine assured Jon that her answer was yes, and Jon pushed the tape into the VCR. With the push of a button, the tape that was the court's evidence began to play.

A scene came to the screen: girls dressed in red jerseys dribbled up a green field. The red scored and the yellow took the ball to center field. Yellow was now dribbling down the field. Yellow shot, but red blocked it. Daine recognized herself in the goalie's outfit. The screen panned in and showed Yolane Dunlath stomping forward and hitting her. Daine's head hit a goalie post and crimson blood began to flow from her nose. Stock-still, Daine watched her body fall to the ground and Yolane kicking at her face. Then, a red blur tackled (there was no other word) the yellow Yolane to the ground. Then red-clad people began to crowd around the scene. Daine saw tall Numair furiously break into the cluster, then disappear. Then, the tape cut off.

"Chelsea's mother filmed it," came Jon's quiet voice.

"Oh," was all Daine could manage. Why would someone get so angry over a soccer game? She and Yolane had always been competitive, but never to the extent of injury. It wasn't the attack that bothered Daine, only the feelings behind it. Politely excusing herself, she retreated to her room to ponder.

Finally, Diane decided that such instances were not worthy to occupy brain cells, and put the matter out of her mind. Jon would handle it. Besides, she reminded herself, _she_ wasn't the one in the orange jumper suit.

"The truth?" the man sighed. "Well, if you are so keen on unraveling the secrets of me, then I must concede. My name is Numair Salmalìn, but you already knew that. Let's see… I graduated from a private academy in New York, and then proceeded to Duke. I graduated from Duke at the age of twenty-two – I was an early bloomer – and moved down here four years ago. I am now twenty-six and teaching Mammalian Anatomy with great passion." Numair took another lick of his ice cream.

He motioned towards Daine, perched on the bench beside him and enjoying a cone as well, and asked her for her story.

"Veralidaine Sarrasri is my birth name. I lost my mother when I was thirteen in a fire and never knew my father. I was adopted by Jonathan and Thayet Conté a few years back. I am attending UGA and pursuing my passion of mammalian anatomy," she added, enjoying her twist on Numair's words. "So," she continued, "name three hobbies of you particularly enjoy."

Between bites, Numair informed, "I favor studying and expanding my knowledge, coaching the UGA's women's soccer team, and, ultimately, spending hours on end with a particularly special person."

"Hmm," Diane hummed, prepared to coax him. "Might I inquire who, exactly?"

Numair drew close so that she could feel his breath on her lips. Slowly, tenderly, he replied, "Three," and kissed her softly. "Guesses," and kissed her again, "Who."


End file.
